


The Novel Medical Practice of Domesticating a Defective Omega

by Mimichiaraara



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Anakin Skywalker, Alpha Obi-Wan Kenobi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Ending, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Come Eating, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Emperor Darth Vader, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Relationship, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mind Break, Mpreg, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Omega Verse, Prostate Milking, Riding, Scent Marking, Secret Identity, Stockholm Syndrome, Suitless Darth Vader, Time Skips, Top Anakin Skywalker, Unconscious Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29749785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimichiaraara/pseuds/Mimichiaraara
Summary: A year after Obi-Wan Kenobi left him unconscious but completely unharmed on the pits of Mustafar, Darth Vader finds him. In an act of forgiveness, Vader presents Obi-Wan the honor to stand at his side as his Omegan consort. That is after the minor inconvenience of his old Master being born an Alpha is fixed.Darth Vader forcibly alters Obi-Wan from an Alpha to an Omega and knocks him up for a “happily” ever after.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Vader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105
Collections: Obikin Kinkmeme





	The Novel Medical Practice of Domesticating a Defective Omega

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caidepgun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caidepgun/gifts).



> For Caidepgun’s prompt:
> 
> <#722703152041689099>, DARK AF <:oop:728121006987804724> <#728059342028537886>, <#722703307788779601>
> 
> Alpha/Alpha; Vader Bitches Obi-wan.
> 
> Suitless Vader captures Obi-wan. Before Vader's birth, Anakin had always wished that Obi-wan an Omega- so that he can claim him. Now, that he's captured Obi-wan, Vader forces Obi-wan to transition from an Alpha to an Omega by training his body to take his knot with physical and hormonal therapy.
> 
> Adding something, Vader inserts a uterus inside Obi-wan.  
> FORCED PREGNANCY!!!
> 
> I was in the mood for something dark. Read the tags as this baby is not for the lighthearted whatsoever. I even had the original title of "The Experimental Approach to Bitching One's Master” to advertise how not happy this fic is. 
> 
> To continue on with the pretentious duality theme present in this, the end notes have two songs I listened to while writing this. If you’re good with everything, I hope you enjoy!

There was never enough time. Understandably, the immediate issue of a terrorist cell branding themselves as the Rebellion took priority. After the fifth consecutive kidnapping of the Imperial Moffs he had placed in charge of the various fuel factory worlds within the Bormea sector, Vader’s patience, whatever remains hadn’t been sheered off from this year long headache, had dissolved. Both his attention and presence were required to end this nuisance. Especially once ISB had caught onto sound bites of Jedi assistance. Those burn marks that had pierced the fifth Moffs’s skull matched that of a lightsaber.

Vader snatched one of the face towels folded on the bedside table to wipe the sweat darkening his eyebrows to a deep brown. Underneath him, Obi-Wan lied face down, quiet and finally still. Two hours from now, Vader would be escorted to one of the Star Destroyers where he would meet up with the three battalions that would follow him to Bormea. Meaning the time he had sequestered out of his tied-up schedule was once again stolen away from him. Given that Obi-Wan’s treatment was supposed to begin nearly three months ago after he had healed, he was getting sick of his subordinates’ nonexistent competency.

Sidious was right. Only certain beings deserved the right to execute change. 

Placing his palm flat between Obi-Wan’s shoulder blades, Vader mumbled a hurried, “Come on,” before he managed to bottom out inside the other man.

The squeeze on his cock made him wince, edging closer towards pain than the pleasure he was expecting. Though he wasn’t surprised. Biologically, Alphas weren’t designed to mate with each other. Nature itself deemed the practice as aberrational. That counted double for humans and humanoid species in which marriages between Alphas, while still not outlawed due to Vader not caring enough to enforce it, rarely occurred out of their own volition. A union between Alphas came with the prospect of a finished family line.

He pressed his chest against Obi-Wan’s back. Connected like this, Obi-Wan’s heartbeat blended within his own, the frenzied tempo taking him back to those secluded nights when they could forget the chaotic universe as they embraced each other. Insomnia could be swept away simply by settling on top of his former Master’s chest as he came down from his orgasm. The physical evidence that Obi-Wan was alive, that he could never catch up to how fast his heart palpitated, wrangled him into peaceful rest far superior than had he taken those prescribed sleeping pills.

Those memories existed in an unreachable plane. Since then, he had yet to be welcomed with Obi-Wan’s crinkled nose he only made when mildly annoyed. Watching the proclaimed steadfast Jedi Master fight the urge was cute. Despite Obi-Wan being sixteen years his senior, no other descriptor but cute was apt. 

Obi-Wan’s scent formed around Vader as he travelled his way alongside the bottom of Obi-Wan’s jaw. Balancing between a desolate beach and a forest during Summer, the smell of another Alpha was only partially off-putting. According to the lead doctor he had tasked for Obi-Wan, scent blockers would have to do until they figured out a way to permanently eliminate the source of the smell. Instead of a sharp attack on his senses, it drifted into an unpleasant reminder as to why he couldn’t remain here, where he was meant to be, to begin the process.

At another attempt of a shallow thrust, Obi-Wan groaned under him. Another thrust elicited a second moan, muffled by Obi-Wan sinking his face far into the pile of pillows Vader had arranged for his comfort. The one placed under Obi-Wan’s hips to lessen the strain bore a giant wet stain earned from the river of lube that had flooded down his thighs and the drops of precome that had seeped through. All that was missing was slick.

He was getting ahead of himself. Despite collecting the brightest men, women, and everything along the spectrum of the galaxy, this wasn’t a matter he could rush. Without the restrictive limits of the fallen Republic, the Empire’s achievements in weaponry, medicine, and technology skyrocketed. And providing unlimited funding to his own private medical center, he loaned them remarkable ships, equipment, and housing. Their spouses and children were pledged a free education at any Imperial university. For the rest of their lives, they would be shielded from the difficulties average people endured. Just as long as they found out how to convert an Alpha to an Omega.

A lesser being would call him deluded. Then again, lesser beings often spoke more than they thought. Obi-Wan would be his. They were meant to be.

Still, the results thus far were less than positive. Because of the use of suppressants for over two decades, flushing the drugs from Obi-Wan’s system entailed waiting. One would think stunting an Alpha’s hormones would produce a more efficient method in the transition. One would be mistaken.

His right hand glided over each area of Obi-Wan’s body he had dedicated to holding an unending residence in his mind. Behind Obi-Wan’s ear, against his upper sternum, a bit below his lower abs. Vader dragged his prosthetic hand there, drawing cool circles on Obi-Wan’s heated skin. “Relax,” he mumbled against Obi-Wan’s jaw, his mouth catching more of the older man’s beard than face. “Loosen up or I’ll get stuck again.”

At that, Obi-Wan tensed. Neither of them enjoyed that stall in their session. Hopefully Obi-Wan would come to see reason.

Vader’s exploration over Obi-Wan’s body ran smoother. Knowing that Obi-Wan eased back was fueled by his refusal to be bound together for an indeterminate amount of time rather than actual ecstasy was a concession he acceded to. Amenability wasn’t always a weakness. Of the misinformed lessons his former Master had embedded into him, that lesson carried legitimate merit.

He built up a steady rhythm, constraining himself from shifting into a brutal pace. Not yet, he noted to himself. The drag and pull of his cock going in and out of Obi-Wan ignited his blood, the familiar furor twisting into a leisurely domesticity. Through these continual acts, they would transform the Imperial Palace from a building of business into their corner of the galaxy. Vader had restored some of Obi-Wan’s favorite spots to escape the war with him, upgrading the Meditation Garden by replacing every flora species with a kind he had gifted him as a boy. Other rooms were demolished. Training grounds, while convenient to have around, could be relocated to a separate building and thus the arena had been remodeled.

“Obi-Wan.” He brushed away the hair strands blocking his way from grazing the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. His damp hair bunched up, falling back in its initial place when he brought his hand back. “You’re the most beautiful person in the galaxy.”

In response, Obi-Wan rooted his face into the pillow, the two ends folding up to conceal him.

Vader’s hand strummed along Obi-Wan’s sides, passing over his ribs. “What would I do without you?”

An Emperor without a consort at their side was a ruler unworthy of their authority. It was why no one took issue with Vader decapitating Sidious during his opening ceremony. His old persona as Palpatine evoked a sense of order and resolution. For a decrepit old man, his ascension to power was admirable. Unfortunately, progress favored the young and strong. Why settle for an aging leader dependent on his senile mind and reflexes when he had an equally if not more capable apprentice?

He and Obi-Wan could fulfill their dreams of a functioning government, no democracy to adhere to and no Council to submit to. Deciding between remaining together versus aiding the galaxy was an ongoing argument rendered irrelevant. “I want to fill every part of you in front of the galaxy.” He gripped Obi-Wan’s upper thigh, sighing simultaneously as the older man’s legs quaked. “Think about it, Obi-Wan. You splayed out bare for all to see as I show them I’m the only one worthy of making you mine.” Vader would retain the sole prize of repurposing an Alpha into an Omega. Unrivaled by those inferior mates picked for him by Sidious, Obi-Wan’s grand air would display what Vader had wanted in a consort. Their total value didn’t end by their ability to conceive.

Leaders needed to be seen. “I want them to suffocate on their misery. No matter how much of your body is out in full view,” his finger grazed Obi-Wan’s rim, reveling as the other man twitched in bursts of tempered lust, “you wouldn’t even give them the satisfaction of accidentally coming on them.”

Nobody had mapped out Obi-Wan with the same sort of intense mania like he had. Those past flings the other man had indulged in were hazed over by Obi-Wan’s love for him. Which was why, in contempt of Obi-Wan’s dispassion towards him, in the face of Obi-Wan spatting abusive words vowing that his Empire would perish, in defiance of Obi-Wan burrowing his tongue behind clenched teeth all hours of the day so Vader couldn’t hear his voice even when he wasn’t present, his former Master couldn’t help himself from sobbing his late name as he rocked back onto Vader. 

Between gasps wrought by him wrenching Obi-Wan onto his cock—a hand at the base stilled the knot attempting to set it. Not yet, not enough time, not ready yet—aching for relief, the only sound his former Master surrendered was one name: “A-anakin!” 

Vader pulled out. The sudden release almost caused Obi-Wan to crumple on shaking arms. At the last possible moment, he caught himself. 

Silence followed. It continued on as Vader moved to dress himself in his black robes identical to the ones he had worn in his past life. He sat on the edge of the bed lacing up his boots, today’s failure a foreboding sendoff before his deployment to Bormea. “I take it voyeurism’s off the table.”

Dark humor was his cheap trick to get Obi-Wan to focus on him. One that carried on being effective. Though Obi-Wan could no longer access the Force, the piercing glare at his back felt just as edged.

“Which is kind of odd.” He held the heel of the boot, frowning at how the material rubbed against them. What fantastic timing for them to start deteriorating. “You didn’t mind being heard in the barracks. Or the tents. Your Star Destroyer.” Remembering that one incident, Vader laughed. “The medical bay in the Temple. Who knew medical droids could be so prudish. Almost as uptight as Master—”

Any Jedi’s name would have evoked the reaction he was waiting for. He caught Obi-Wan’s fist aimed to strike him in the back of the head. Another benefit to approving the use of the experimental Force inhibitor implant was knowing he would never be outmaneuvered by a punch if well placed could kill him instantly.

“Cheap shot,” Vader said.

Obi-Wan relaxed his body, the fist falling apart as Vader intertwined their hands. The opportunity to hear Obi-Wan was over. Vader was of no significance to him. Vader held no interest to him. So Obi-Wan didn’t speak to him. He could have the other man’s body for eternity. And would be met with nothing.

Initially, this revelation had brought in the ideas to challenge Obi-Wan’s perception of Anakin Skywalker. An idea he had realized was futile when Obi-Wan withdrew from responding. Attacks on other Jedi yielded him the desired results up until Obi-Wan returned to his unaffected state.

How long did he have before that ceased to work as well? A year? Month? Week?

The question would never be answered. By the time he returned, Obi-Wan would be clear of all effects from the suppressants.

He clamped the sides of Obi-Wan’s jaw, tight enough where the touch couldn’t be ignored but soft enough to convey his frustration, both emotional and sexual, had passed. A close copy of how Obi-Wan first showed how to hold him. “But that’s what I love about you. You’ll never give up when you think there’s another way.”

Rage and indifference wrapped around Obi-Wan in his preferred style of armor. Blocking Vader off from anything past the flare of those two emotions, they performed their intention with due excellence. Had he not calmed down, he would have missed the ripple of mourning simmering in Obi-Wan’s essence.

Finishing off Obi-Wan with his hand came along without further conflict. A grunt was the only indication Vader received that Obi-Wan hadn’t faded off into his mind like last time. 

Vader lifted his hand up to Obi-Wan’s eye level and smirked as he looked away.

Looked like today wasn’t such a failure after all.

* * *

Obi-Wan sucked the static air behind his teeth, bracing himself for Anakin’s reaction once he glimpsed at his Padawan’s test results. The capitalized ‘A’ splayed out under Anakin’s name forecasted him of the incoming headache he would be facing later today. He exchanged an exasperated look with Master Che, the Chief Healer’s put out frown more genuine than his own lighthearted one before he turned a slight smile on Anakin.

“Congratulations Padawan Skywalker,” she said. She flipped her tablet around so Anakin could have full transparency for the fantastic news. “You’ve officially been entered into the Temple’s database as a Standard Alpha. Next week, you’ll come in for your pick of rut relaxers. Do you have any questions?”

Seeing Anakin beam back at him, Obi-Wan shook his head. “We’ll be fine. Thank you for seeing him.”

Anakin bowed to her. “Thank you!”

He followed Anakin’s gesture then left the Halls of Healing. Throughout their walk back to their shared dorms, Obi-Wan felt more than witnessed Anakin’s excited energy vibrating through his body. From his whistling to his upbeat greetings to any Jedi who passed by them, no one outside those truly oblivious could miss the obvious sign he was begging them to ask about what brought out his ecstatic mood.

As his Master, he should remind Anakin that it was considered rude to toss around one’s emotions without regarding anyone else’s feelings on the matter. While someone such as Obi-Wan could get away with forgetting shielding as his aura wasn’t potent enough to produce an effect further than a mindless irritant, Anakin was aware that he was required to keep his thoughts and emotions in check. Still, there was a chance Anakin might have slipped due to the news. “Anakin, your shielding’s waned.”

“Oh, I know.”

It was starting. Obi-Wan threw an unhappy look Anakin’s way before it melted away in the face of his Padawan’s shining aura. Gone were the days of the small child who sat when instructed and didn’t speak until he was told to. Their five years together had seen to that. Whatever personality Anakin had first believed Obi-Wan preferred had faded over time.

Sometimes Obi-Wan would catch remnants of when they initially met. Whenever Anakin unapologetically triumphed over his peers in lightsaber combat or excelled to the top of his class yet again, his Padawan would wait on his praise, practically going blue in the face with juvenile despair if he took longer than a minute to laud his achievements. Even so, Anakin waited. Maybe it was a leftover habit from his past as a slave. Despite the sheer contempt Anakin must have felt knowing the life of him and his mother were worth no more than that of a farm animal, the systemization behind slavery necessitated that the relationship between slave and owner was based on a mutual understanding of their limits. Theoretically, a slave owner could treat their slave with absolute cruelty, and the likelihood that the slave could fight back would remain relatively low. That being said, it benefited both parties to extend a measure of kindness.

 _A slave heeds their master, but a Child obeys their Father._ To this day, those words sickened him with their meaning. But he would never forget the utter revulsion in Qui-Gon’s face at hearing them nor the pit of nausea that struck him as he watched the slaves laugh at their discomfort.

“—me.”

Obi-Wan looked back at Anakin. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

His Padawan’s grin flipped to a frown. “Are you alright, Master? I was talking on end without you sighing or rolling your eyes.”

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan let out a sigh through his nose. “First of all, I’ve never rolled my eyes at anyone speaking. Much less you.”

Anakin snorted. “Yes, you do. Don’t you remember that Senator from whatever Middle Rim planet writing a letter about us and sending it to the Chancellor?”

What letter to the Chancellor? Any of his actions that warranted that severe of a denunciation certainly seemed unlike him. Under no circumstance would he ... hm.

Never mind. He did remember. Given the choice to go back, he wouldn’t change a thing, a secret he wouldn’t share to his Padawan. “Do I really roll my eyes so often?” After all, that was one event.

“Yes! Are you serious in that you didn’t notice?” Anakin asked. “You do it all the time. It’s like your number one response to hearing anything. Like that was the first thing you did when I told you I lost my lightsaber.”

If that was true, then apparently he was in immediate need of an attitude adjustment. Otherwise, how could he ever expect Anakin to follow the example of the typical Jedi? It wouldn’t be fair. And if he could pass on one lesson to Anakin throughout his somewhat inadequate skills as a Master, it would be the concept and application of fairness.

As their front door appeared in his view, Obi-Wan motioned for them to wait before heading in. Anakin listened, giving him a raised eyebrow but then standing by. “I didn’t realize it was such an issue that I’d be publicly called out on it. Even if I sometimes seem like I’m not paying you any mind, I want you to know that your opinions are always appreciated. Please feel free to speak your mind.”

“Master…” Anakin’s mouth closed. In place of speaking, Anakin threw his arms over Obi-Wan’s shoulders and held onto him, fitting his head into his chest.

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. While he didn’t hug Anakin back with his arms raised awkwardly in the air, he didn’t nudge out of it either. He could count the number of times he and Anakin had exchanged physical displays of affection on one hand.

A hug felt much differently from a short pat on the shoulder, both physically and emotionally. He didn’t hate it. But to claim enjoyment out of it didn’t sound right either.

After a minute, Anakin let go of him and stepped away. As if nothing had happened, Anakin entered their home under the same joyful mood he had started off with.

To congratulate Anakin for the results, Obi-Wan pulled out all the stops for dinner, arranging a compilation of his favorite meals: glazed rib roast sprinkled with spicy chives, a side of mashed potatoes a bit too mushy for his own tastes but perfectly matched for Anakin’s, stuffed mini peppers that he had precooked to ensure a softer texture, four balls of breaded octopus originating from Glee Anselm, and the finisher of baked pink apple chips drizzled with homemade dark chocolate syrup. Messing up the glaze for the roast was forgiveable and Anakin wouldn’t say anything if the potatoes were firmer than he liked. But as the baked pink apple chips were a recipe he had begged Dex to give up once Anakin had fallen in love with them, Obi-Wan wanted to strive for excellence. Otherwise those six hours of him suffering under Dex’s peals of invectives would have been all for nothing. For how kind he knew Dex to be, cooking was a topic he neither took lightly nor appreciated Obi-Wan not putting in all his efforts.

“‘A well-made meal is the kindest gift you can give someone,’” Obi-Wan muttered, watching the pink apple slices brown through the oven door. Dex’s words, at the time pushing Obi-Wan to dream about strangling him for repeating every time his food came out less than ideal then wishing unkind thoughts to his friend when the failures were subsequently tossed out to street rats, appeared to him. Considering Qui-Gon had never known how to operate a dishwasher much less an appliance more complex like a stove, their home had gotten accustomed to takeouts or trips to the Temple’s Refectory. How was he to know cooking food at the highest temperature didn’t expedite the process?

The tradition of eating out stopped soon after it complicated Anakin’s already poor health. Certain ingredients restaurants depended on made Anakin ill, and only after his Padawan needed his stomach pumped did he admit to it.

Squatting next to him, Anakin had his palms laid flat on the oven door. “I think they’re done.”

“Two more minutes,” Obi-Wan said. By color alone, Obi-Wan knew when they would be ready. “Did you set the table?”

“Already done!”

Obi-Wan looked behind him towards the table. Adorned with the special dining cloth set put for special occasions, the table had two sets of plates and cutlery displayed on opposite sides. In addition to that, the extra wine glass on Anakin’s side made him pause. “Padawan.”

“I’ll put it back.” The pout Anakin cast in Obi-Wan’s direction was pitiable, his Padawan’s remorse equal parts authentic and over-embellished. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Without waiting for Obi-Wan to admonish him first, Anakin got up on his feet, his earlier elation that couldn’t be dampened now snuffed out. To his Padawan’s credit, the strength of Anakin’s shielding would blot out a typical Jedi’s aura. Unfortunately, Anakin’s emotions still managed to leak through.

Alcohol was meant for adults. As the responsible adult—the only adult in the room. Anakin had a long way to being an adult—Obi-Wan knew what he was supposed to do. What a Jedi Master such as Master Yoda would do. “Anakin?”

His Padawan turned back to him. “Yes, Master?”

“Only for tonight.”

What a good act of the Force for Anakin that Obi-Wan was more like Qui-Gon than most people believed. More than even Qui-Gon believed.

Obi-Wan met Anakin’s enthusiasm into plowing through his food with a quick turn of his lips. The sight alone was disagreeable to all of his senses, the urge to chastise him for speaking with his mouth full supported by Qui-Gon’s upbringing to mold Obi-Wan into a mindful Jedi. No matter how much it endeared him to hear his Padawan lavish praise upon praise for an act so simple even he could learn to master it, watching the evidence of his pride fall onto the floor was, undeniably, disgusting.

Perhaps this was what Dex had meant. Only for the price of cutting some odd hours out the day and witnessing a mess form over their clean home could Anakin’s joy spread out.

Sipping at his lightly sparkling red wine, the light revulsion he had felt inclined into amusement. Anakin, not one to reject a gift, had lost the motivation powering him through eating more than his stomach could realistically hold. What drove him now was his ridiculous self-imposed rule to not waste a single scrap of food. His hand shaking, Anakin guided the fork full of roast near his mouth, letting out a pained groan, and shoving it inside.

“We have a refrigerator for a reason, Anakin,” he reminded him. He swirled his wine glass between his fingers. The taste was a bit too sweet, pairing well with the apple chips but nothing else. “I wasn’t expecting you to finish it all in one night.”

“I—” Anakin stopped himself from speaking. Clamping onto his stomach, Anakin looked a second from losing his dinner.

Oh dear. This was what Obi-Wan got for entertaining Anakin’s foolishness. If the drawback for allowing attachment to flourish was cleaning up after a sick Padawan, no wonder the Order stressed the dangers of it. “It will still be here tomorrow.”

Going by Anakin’s steady retreat to his bedroom, his battle against human limits one he had conceded, Obi-Wan considered his present well received. The number of dishes he would need to wash, plus the leftover food he would have to package, left him less upbeat. Dex hadn’t managed to instill his love of cleaning into Obi-Wan yet. The day he did, Anakin might have to keep an eye on him to prevent Dex from taking him on as his apprentice.

He finished his glass. The savoriness from the roast had faded, giving the apple chips freedom to remain unruled. He wouldn’t mind doing this special dinners more often. Just as long as Anakin did the dishes.

By the time the only task he had left to do was scrubbing the oven tops, Anakin came stumbling back in. Heading straight for the other abrasive sponge sitting on the counter top, Anakin joined him.

His Padawan’s selflessness knew no bounds. Regardless of the fact he knew little of Shmi Skywalker outside her designation of being an Omega, the difference as to whether she was Standard or Aberrated unknown without the woman being present for testing, he could confirm one thing: she had raised a respectable son. Even if she never saw him again, Obi-Wan hoped she could trust he had continued her legacy.

Sleeves rolled up above their shoulders, they exerted all their strength into filing away at the glass covering until it resembled its former glory. A spray of polish, a more more minutes off observing the solution bubble up to disintegrate the stubborn stains, and the oven was touched up with a lovely finish. Maybe even a shine.

Though Anakin wouldn’t be offended if he didn’t hear it, Obi-Wan extended his gratitude. “Thank you, Padawan. Doing that on my own would’ve taken the rest of the night.” Instead, their teamwork had cut the time in half, the digital clock reading 2210.

“Of course, Master.” The grease stains that crept their way onto Anakin’s pants nearly made Obi-Wan scrunch his nose before he thought better of it. They were a hassle to remove. “With me being an adult now—”

Obi-Wan interrupted him, slipping into a faux serious tone. Funny how he had thought of Anakin as an adult today too. “Who said you were an adult? Other than you finding out you’re an Alpha, everything will remain the same.”

“Not everything,” he said, the spark of confidence brimming over as he played the part of cocky Padawan. “I’m an Alpha, Master.”

“I know. I was there.”

“Meaning I can actually save people. I’ll be capable of doing real change.”

“As opposed to what?”

Anakin messed with the end of his sleeve, keeping Obi-Wan from noticing his nervous tic of cracking his fingers. Obi-Wan waited for Anakin to finish what he so obviously believed in despite repeated tries to teach him better. Picking up on Anakin’s purposeful silence, Obi-Wan asked, “As opposed to what, Padawan? Beta? Omega? Maybe even a different type of Alpha you’ve deemed as lesser?”

His Padawan dropped his head, flushing with shame he experienced but didn't fathom the reason behind why he felt it. Even if he was no longer going to vocalize it after discerning Obi-Wan’s disappointment, the sentiment he was feeling wouldn’t disappear overnight. Anakin wasn’t the only Jedi with that attitude. Obi-Wan hadn’t taught him that, but with him being a Jedi Knight he couldn’t rebuke those who beat him both in experience and rank.

Omegas were a touchy subject within the Republic, the grand government maintaining a thin thread of togetherness that seemed to fray year after year. Legally speaking, Omegas held the same rights as their Beta and Alpha peers, given equal opportunities to attend school, obtain a job, and possess access to safe medication that dulled the effects of some of the more inconvenient signs of sexual maturity. Any planet that requested to join had to agree to this basic set of regulations or yield to an automatic rejection. However, each planet’s interpretation of what that meant differed wildly, some interpretations so far removed from the spirit of the law that those Senators may have well as just admitted to not changing their ways. For example, a certain Senator from a certain Mid Rim planet Obi-Wan had no plans ever returning to. Or apologizing for calling a ‘patronizing sycophant more obsequious to his dog than his spouse.’

Nevertheless, Omegas residing in the Republic could reasonably expect some measure of equality. Including those who dedicated themselves to the Order. Which, once again, was mired in its own sphere of complications that Obi-Wan tired of attempting to explain to Anakin. All that mattered was this: one’s gender played no role in a Jedi’s test of character. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Obi-Wan rubbed his temples. He had thought he had conveyed that essential lesson to Anakin. Clearly he was wrong. “Anakin,” he started, “I need you to listen to me about this. _Nothing_ will change. You are no better than anyone else for something so inconsequential. Understand?”

Anakin nodded, keeping his dejected expression to the ground. “I just wanted to help people like I was born to do. I never thought I was better than them. If being an Alpha makes it easier, isn’t that a good thing?” Anakin tempted a glance up, flinching at Obi-Wan’s unrelenting resolve. “I-it can’t be wrong, can it?”

In mentoring Anakin, he had grown to admire his Padawan unlike any way he had before. The love he held, for it was love despite the swooping lurch in his stomach that whispered how love was followed half a step by attachment, towards Anakin felt nowhere close to the kind he had towards his late Master. Through Anakin, the realm of emotions rested comfortably within his grasp and permitting them to reach depths rarely breeched without the bubbling anxiety warning him to stop had become familiar. Welcoming, admittedly. Yet the reminder that Anakin was not the idyllic boy who carried no inherent preconceptions anymore hurt worse for it.

Obi-Wan crouched down, staring up at Anakin’s downtrodden face to looked moments away from tearing up. Seeing his Master paying him full attention, Anakin hid behind his arms. Against Anakin’s reassurance that he was an adult chosen by the Force to act as the galaxy’s protector, he still cried. He possessed empathy for other beings. Most importantly, he knew when to heed—

Heed was an ugly term to use. Anakin _understood_ the concept of compromise. Pulling Anakin’s arms away, he managed to peek a glimpse of his tear-stricken face before he tilted his head up at the ceiling.

“Protecting others is a very good thing.” Wanting to prevent harm was an excellent trait to have. No Jedi worth their salt would ascribe Anakin’s burning passion to save others as contemptible. “Just … be cognizant of why. And never forget that your way of helping someone might not align to their definition. We wouldn’t want to impose ourselves on others, right? Because we understand _that’s_ an easy justification for subjugation, yes?”

Anakin bobbed his head in an affirmative.

Though Anakin wouldn’t be able to see it, the smile fitted onto his face may have been his proudest one yet. “Can you look me in the eye when you answer?”

Facing Obi-Wan head on, Anakin sniffed. His blue eyes darkened with distress. But underneath that Obi-Wan noticed a more significant feeling overtaking his Force signature. Guilt coupled with the promise of repentance. “Right, Master. I’ll watch what I say from now on. And … I’ll remember what you said.”

They were heading in the right direction. This topic would return another day, probably prompted by one of Anakin’s instructors who would reiterate outdated viewpoints. That meeting had been less than pleasant.

Obi-Wan held himself back from commending Anakin for his maturity that Jedi three times his age still refused to fix. His Padawan’s eyes were wet from crying, the reds bordering them appearing irritated. Too irritated for the minutes of sniveling.

Observing Anakin a bit longer, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Get in the shower and aim the stream on your forehead for twenty minutes. Do not rub your eyes.”

Anakin exited with a half bow before dashing off to clean out the chemicals that got into his eyes after touching his face so much. He couldn’t believe he was worried. Anakin was a kind boy. Being an Alpha shouldn’t change that. It wouldn’t change that.

If that did end up changing Anakin’s personality to that of an unrecognizable brute ... the two of them would work it out. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> A Story: Put it Straight (Nightmare Ver) by (G)I-DLE  
> B Story: Put it Straight by (G)I-DLE.


End file.
